So Not Into Psychics
by jasper03
Summary: The violent deaths of some psychics call Sam and Dean Winchester to a new hunt. They will need to use their years of training and perhaps even some imagination for this hunt. Will the boys be able to stop the deaths or will they be caught in the crossfire
1. Prologue: Dead Woman's Crossing

**Disclaimer: Sadly Dean and Sam Winchester and the Impala are not mine. I only own my mistakes and don't even get paid for them. One day, when Kripke is tired of having Jared and Jensen chased by man-eating creatures, they will be mine! _Muhahaha!_ I doubt he'll ever get tired of them though. They sold their souls the day they agreed to the show. And thank god they did or else there wouldn't be any decent television shows.**

**Author's Note: This is a little bunny that hopped into my yard thanks to Dreadedfemale. Without Dreadedfemale and her, er--"idea bunny", I would not have written this. Oh and this is the prologue so don't wig out if you don't see mention of Sam and Dean yet. Gotta set the story, right? Oh! And Dead Woman's Crossing, Ok is a real place, its located in Weathorford, Ok. Also, Katy DeWitt James truly did exist. She is said to be her weeping and calling for her murdered child and can be heard crossing over the bridge that is named for the tragedy. Oooh spooky!**

**So Not Into Psychics**

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Ring….Ring….Ri-

Oh , for the love of-- Of all the inconvenient times for someone to call. Jenna Coljack picked up the phone after dusting flour from her hands. Her cake would have to wait. Oh well, as long as it got baked before her nephews birthday tomorrow it would be alright. Why was she making a cake for a nineteen year old anyway? Maybe because Marci is an evil older sister who always got what she wanted.

"Hello? Jenna Coljack speaking." Calling cards were such a bad idea. Her sister thought they were a cute idea, a smart way to get her name around to the locals. Humph! As if she really needed help with that! She had been a nationally acclaimed psychic back in the day, before she moved to Dead Woman Crossing, Oklahoma. That had also been one of her sister's ideas. Why the hell Oklahoma? Why not Merry Hell, Mississippi or Spook City, Colorado? They sounded remotely scary and psychic and most of all she wouldn't be surrounded by suspicious, half-crazed hillbillies from hell!

"Uh, yeah. Are-are you the psychic?" The voice on the other line was pinched and scared. Great. Just Great thought Jenna. Another scared-shitless client calling up in the middle of the day. Am I the Psychic? Heavens above! She made her sound like she was the village idiot. Humph.

Jenna silently rolled her eyes. If the name I gave you and the number you called match the card, I'd say yeah, I'm the psychic. Some people! "I am." She answered, keeping her voice level.

A sigh of relief could be heard from the other line. "Oh good! My friend gave me your card and said you may be able to help me. See, I just moved into this house--I just realized, I didn't tell you my name. Please forgive me, you must think I'm rude."

Move it along lady, I have things to do today. I should really charge for just calling. Jenna silently reveled at the idea, wouldn't that be smart? She tucked that thought away in the back of her mind for later and continued with her cake." No dearie, you just keep on."

"Well, uh, my name is Becki Philpot and--"

"And you have something in your house you want me to see?" I swear! Some people are so dull! Why on earth did I agree to Marci's stupid idea to move here? Oh yeah, because of local legend Katy DeWitt James. The locals fought tooth and nail claiming she existed and still wanders the old bridge looking for her poor murdered child. What a load of crap! Honestly, Marci was taking this psychic stuff too seriously. Jenna thought back, the psychic gig had been Marci's idea too. If Marci would realize how many good ideas she had, she would be worth a million dollars and Jenna would be the one with the family in an average town on a Stepford Wives street.

"Please, I've called two other psychics and they said there was nothing in here and left. I tried to call them back, but they won't pick up and I think they think I was joking."

Instantly Jenna popped into her Psychic Wonder character. If people needed a psychic, then she'd give them one. "No! I can feel the presence over the phone! Give me your address and I will come immediately! We can discuss my hourly rates when I get there." This was going to be easy.

Jenna calmly listened to the woman on the other line rattle off the address and directions. After reviewing the directions mentally in her head, Jenna knew the place the woman was talking about. Assuring Becki she would be there in just a half hour, she hung up. Her cake was nearly finished by the time the call ended. Boy, could Oklahomans shoot the bull! All she would have to do was ice the cake, she could do that when she got home from assessing the house.

Of all the places in all the world, it had to be this house. It was a large, old two story at the edge of town. Of course it had to be the house that no sane person would enter. The house absolutely screamed haunted. Jenna may be a fake psychic, but she didn't have to be a real one to know something evil went down in that house. In all her thirty years on the earth, fourteen of those pretending to be psychic, she had never actually been faced with a real haunted house. Marci had been sure of that when she ran the business. Jenna liked to believe Marci, a good ten years older, was just being protective. Sadly though, Jenna knew it was just because Marci didn't want their cover blown.

As if having a town named after a haunted bridge wasn't enough, the town had to have a real haunted house. Oklahomans didn't do anything halfway did they? Nope. With all the haunted Indian burial grounds and crazy backwoods hicks, you'd think people would have to be Grade A crazy to come here and live.

Jenna sighed as she grabbed her bag and headed out to her car. The only nice thing about living here is she never had to worry about locking her doors. Folk around here looked out for each other, unless they thought you were a threat. Which as far a Jenna could tell she wasn't, at least she never woke up with a dozen townspeople standing outside her door with torches and pitchforks.

The drive was a rather quick one and Jenna had barely had enough time to think of what approach she would take. Should she tell Becki that the spirit was harmless and suggest candle burning and reflection? No. Becki seemed to scared for her to believe the….whatever was peaceful and looking for someone to be friends with. How about the pack up and leave town bit? That usually earned a little bonus pay from grateful clients. But if the client just moved here, she probably didn't want to leave. She would just have to pretend she sensed something evil and Becki Whats-her-face to sleep with salt or holy water or something that sounds like it would ward off nasties.

The house was back in the boonies, just off a secluded private road. As if a creaky two story wasn't enough. Jenna let out the breath she forgot she was holding.

She should really just retire. Find a nice guy and a big spiritless city and settle down. Being able to retire at age thirty sounded good. Jenna had a small fortune from her psychic gig. She had even had her own TV program at one point. It lasted for two years before ratings went down, but it was long enough for people to recognize her and get called to talk on daytime talk shows. What guy wouldn't want a girl that has been on television? Alright so that was cocky, but she had a big ego.

Stepping out of the car slowly she could already see a human form appear out of the front door. That must be the fruitcake that moved in here. Jenna put on her biggest fake smile and greeted the client.

"Hello, I'm Jenna Coljack and you must be Becki Crackpot." She held out her hand. She cold now see the client must have been about her sister's age. Gray already slowly creeping into her hair and certain features beginning to droop.

The client nodded. "It's Philpot."

Jenna shifted uncomfortably. "Right. So how about you clue me in on the history of the house."

Becki just stared at her wide-eyed and her jaw dropped. "You live right in town and you don't _know_?"

Angry and a little embarrassed at the older woman's implications to her cluelessness, Jenna shook her head. If she were to give in and speak, she was pretty sure she would have sliced Becki through with her sharp tongue. In an occupation so often criticized, it was vital to become cynical and smartass.

"Let's get inside and I'll tell you what I was told." She grabbed Jenna's bag and led her inside. Once inside she dropped the bag and began to show Jenna around.

"In the 1950's a man owned this house, he was flat out scary too. He would stalk people and scare them. Mean tricks, you know? One day some people from the town decided he had gone too far stalking and scaring their children and decided to scare him back. They captured him right from his house and tied him up in barn," Becki paused noticing Jenna was looking out the window. No doubt looking for the barn.

"It's gone now," She motioned at the window. "They meant to just taunt him with fire. They made a small contained fire, but quickly the flames got too big. The townspeople tried to get him untied but couldn't in time. He suffered a heart-attack. A man pulled him out but it was too late. He was still breathing but his flesh was burned off his head and the townspeople assumed his brains were fried. They buried him somewhere around here when he died."

Okay, now Jenna was feeling sick. That's just gross. "So if the house has such a violent history, why did you move in?"

"Oh I just thought it would be fun." Jenna stared at Becki deadpan. What. A. Freak!

"Actually, I assess old homes. I come out, live in them and then write about them if I think they are haunted. So far this ones got to be the freakiest." Jenna turned her head and smirked. Yeah? Really? Is it freaky 'cause you are living in it?

"Here is one of my calling cards, if you ever assess a haunted house again, give me a call." Jenna seriously doubted she would ever willingly talk to this woman again.

It was really cold in the house, like really, really cold. "Does it feel cold to you?" Normally, this was a slight ruse she used to get people to see phantoms, but this time she meant it.

"Yes!" Was the only answer Jenna got out of the client.

The lights flickered some. What horror flick did I see this in? Hmm…All of them. "Say Becki? Go fetch some salt."

It didn't take two seconds for Becki to run off to the kitchen. In a normal assessment, this would be where she would be commenting on how people were like sheep. One goes over the edge, the rest follow. But somehow, this was different. She kinda hoped salt would ward bad things off. Just then Becki came tearing into the room like a devil possessed.

"Got the salt." She said out of breath, offering the shaker to Jenna. "It's lite salt, will it work?"

Jenna had no idea, but she held onto the idea that it might. She accepted the proffered shaker and emptied half the shaker's contents into Becki's hand.

"What now?" Asked a very timid Becki.

"Uh…Throw the salt at anything scary." The lights flickered and Jenna felt a powdery substance hit her face, unfortunately she received no warning and some got in her eyes. She yelled in pain.

"Am I really that scary Becki? Really? Bless it! That hurt!"

"I'm sorry! I thought… " Jenna cut her off when she screamed.

"Get down Becki!" Becki dropped and Jenna threw salt at a most menacing looking apparition. It disappeared in a thick black cloud and the light flicked back on. Still holding the shaker Jenna ran out to her car grabbing her bag as she went. She was speeding off down the road before the door even slammed shut.

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Once home, very shaken, Jenna threw her bag in the entry way and tossed the calling card and salt shaker on her kitchen counter. Nervously, she began to ice her nephew's cake. She hoped it would calm her down, but it didn't. Her wrist shook as she tried to write 'happy birthday' on it. She would have to clean up the house a little after this. Marci insisted on having the party at Jenna's house. Why did Jenna always buckle?

The phone began to ring. Jenna sighed, it was probably that crackpot lady and she really didn't want to talk to her. No wonder the other psychics didn't return her calls. Becki was bad news and Jenna didn't care if she ever got paid for that gig. She hoped she never saw her again.

"Hello, this is Jenna Coljack." Jenna didn't hear anything on the other line. She grabbed Becki's salt shaker she had run out of the house with. She unscrewed the lid and dumped some in her hand, cursing when she dropped the shaker and it fell to the floor sending salt all around her.

"Turn around." Came a menacing male voice.

"Ex-excuse me? Who are you? How did you get this number." The calling cards! Stupid, stupid, stupid! She should have just told Marci no.

"I don't like salt." The line went dead and Jenna spun around when she her the voice behind her. She felt her heart burst as she screamed and fell to the salt covered floor.

**Okay. Y'all know the drill. That button at the bottom of the page? You should really push it. There will be a surprise...for me. I wanna know what you think of Jenna and Becki. Very vital!**


	2. Award Winning Goat, Huh?

**Yay for the update! Its only taken 1, 2, 3...46 days! I hope this make you guys happy! Lemme know if it does... like hint, hint review...**

***subtlely adds* Y'all can check out my profile and other stories... It would make me feel better...**

**Wanna see something really cool?? Go read the E/O challenges...you know you wanna...**

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So Not Into Psychics

By:Jasper03

Dean was tired, it had only been a month since Sam's possession and Sam insisted on working almost non-stop. His brother had taken over and was dishing out orders like his father used to. The kid even dared ask to drive. His car! He would be damned if his little brother took his driving privileges. Perhaps his brother was feeling guilty for causing so much trouble while he was possessed. Dean knew he would feel guilty if he had been possessed, he really hoped the kid didn't. He shook his head and sighed to himself.

Dean needed alcohol, he needed a good lay, he needed sleep. Not that he'd admit it and risk sounding like a girl. He hadn't felt this worn out since he was a kid, about seven or eight, when his little brother would get into everything. He smiled absentmindedly at the thought.

Sammy may have been a little terror as a child, but he had been really cute. Cute little siblings were always a plus for picking up chicks, he tossed a look, unnoticed over the table at the big sasquatch sitting across from him. Obviously Sammy's cuteness wore off when he became the biggest pain in the ass in the world. Or maybe it was when Sam stopped letting his brother use him to get dates. Whichever, he knew he wouldn't trade that pain in the ass for anything. Well, maybe for some sleep. Maybe.

Really all the boys needed was a little break from all the stress of hunting major monsters. The werewolves and vampires and even witches were becoming too much. A small hunt like a spirit would be ideal. Salt the sucker's body and watch the bitch's bones burn. There was nothing to it and Dean wished everything was that easy. Well except for his women, he liked them feisty.

* * *

Sam glanced at his brother who was daydreaming. He sighed and kept talking, hoping his brother might be listening on some level. Man, he was getting tired. After his possession Dean just kinda quit being in charge and Sam took over everything, except driving. He'd learned his lesson on that one. All he did was ask if Dean wanted him to drive so he could rest and his brother snapped at him. It kinda reminded Sam of a dog with its favorite toy. Doesn't mind if you want to play with the toy when they want to, but when they think you are going to take it away for good, they bite.

Two days ago, he decided to stop looking for hunts and pretend he couldn't find any. He almost felt guilty for it, but he really needed a break and wasn't about to admit it to his brother. It seems everything Sam did earned himself the title of a being "girl". Not that he really cared, he knew most of the names his brother called him were underlying endearments.

They had just stopped in a quiet Oklahoma town that morning for breakfast before they found a new motel. Already Sam was wishing they had just driven through. The diner looked like it hadn't been cleaned for at least a decade and it made Sam's skin crawl.

He gave up on trying to talk to his big brother, obviously the wall was more entertaining. Sam picked up newspaper the waitress had left with them and began to read about an award winning goat that had been entered in a livestock competition. The locals sure knew how to have fun. Not.

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**_Two psychics confirmed dead, third in critical condition_**

… Psychics, huh? Like "I can summon the family member of your choosing for forty bucks and will bend spoons for and extra ten" or "Sammy the Psychic Geek-boy Wonder"?

Dean stole another glance at his little brother. If this town was wasting real psychics, then he and his brother were getting the Hell outta Buttfuck, Oklahoma or whatever this place was called immediately. No passing go or collecting two hundred dollars. They wouldn't even stay long enough to be considered for the title of "new additions" to the local prison's collection. No way Dean was going to risk his brother's life like that.

Where's the rest of the article? **_More on victims on page four._** Friggin' newspapers. What is wrong with having the whole story on one page? Is it against some law? Dean thought a moment. Yeah, it probably was. But then, he didn't really know. His family had broken too many laws to really care anymore.

"Sam." The younger man continued staring at the newspaper making no move to acknowledge his brother's existence.

"Earth to geek-boy!" Sam's head popped up.

That still works? "When your done hogging the paper, I wanna see it."

Sam nodded and continued reading.

What is wrong with him? Mom or Dad must have dropped him when he was still a baby. Dean grabbed a straw still in its wrapper from the table and tore the very end off. He stuck the exposed end in his mouth and blew a puff of air through the tiny tube. Dean succeeded in blowing the wrapper across the table and hitting his little brother's nose with it.

"What was that for?"

Dean began with a chuckle then ended in a fit of laughter. Annoying Sam had to be the best pastime ever invented. "I meant I wanted to see the paper now. What'd they teach you at that college anyway?"

" How to be Smarter Than Your Big Annoying Brother 101." Sam answered, sending a dimply smile to Dean across the table.

Smarter than me, huh? How many times have I told that kid that'll never happen? Dean smiled back and countered, "There isn't a class! Hate to tell you Sammy-boy but you got gypped."

"Whatever."

"Paper."

Dean watched his brother roll his eyes and sigh dramatically as he handed the paper to him. Award winning goat, huh? Dad definitely dropped Sammy.

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**Ooh...sorry did that seem short to you all?? Maybe if I had some reviews to work with... (I should be ashamed of myself... I know... I'd make a good politician) :);)**

***Hugs***

**Katie**


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